


Gloriosa

by AtropaAzraelle (Polyoxyethylene)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Breakfast in Bed, Fluff, M/M, You don't know fear until Gladio uses your kitchen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 01:02:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13155843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polyoxyethylene/pseuds/AtropaAzraelle
Summary: Ignis awakes to the smell of burning and goes to investigate.





	Gloriosa

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PorcelainLove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PorcelainLove/gifts).



> Love, you're one of the sweetest people I've met. You're kind and generous to a fault, and we're richer for knowing you. I wanted to give you something even half as sweet as you. Merry Christmas.

Ignis drifted to consciousness in a comfortable haze. His alarm hadn’t woken him, and the bed was warm, and soft around and under him. There were few better ways to wake than like this, and Ignis rolled over in the bed, stretching his arm out to find the warmth of Gladio and perhaps curl up for another ten minutes of lazy dozing before he made a move.

The room smelled faintly of body heat, and sleep, and somewhat less faintly of brewing coffee. When Ignis reached out, the bed next to him was distressingly empty.

He sat up slowly. There was no sound to indicate the bathroom was in use, and somewhere under the fresh smell of coffee was the slightly acrid smell of something burning. It lanced through his senses and brought him to full wakefulness sharply. Throwing the covers back to slide out of bed, Ignis paused only to drag on a pair of shorts that were, on closer inspection, Gladio’s, before he headed to the kitchen.

Images of flames, and cookware scorched beyond use danced across his imagination. Worse still was the potential for smoke damage; his memory already conjuring up the required items to clean ash from cabinets and enamel efficiently. A persistent noise of flapping material met his ears as he opened the door and peered around. Faint wisps of thin smoke curled and coiled through the air, and Ignis frowned at the scene.

“Gladio?” he asked, the name alone being sufficient to require an explanation from the culprit.

“Shit,” came the reply. Ignis watched Gladio frantically flap a cloth at the source of the smoke, and the smell. “I got it,” he added, glancing back over his shoulder, “go back to bed.”

Ignis raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t put his glasses on in his hurry to find the source of the fire, but Gladio was still perfectly visible, as was his desperate attempt to dispel the smoke rising from the toaster. “I thought I was having a stroke,” he quipped, “I can’t say I’m relieved to know it’s just you destroying my kitchen.”

There was a slightly exasperated huff from Gladio, followed by a defensive, “It’s just burnt toast. I’ve not destroyed anything.”

“Yet,” Ignis countered, pointedly. He stood his ground as Gladio turned and made his way over towards him, keeping his arms folded and his expression expectant with an edge of scolding. There had better, every line of his body said, be an explanation coming

Instead of an explanation Ignis got Gladio’s hands placed on his hips, the grip exerting insistent force as Gladio turned him back towards the bedroom. “I’m not gonna destroy anything unless you stay there, distracting me,” he said, giving Ignis a firm push back the way he had come. “Go and wait in bed,” he insisted, but followed it up with a, “please?” that Ignis found hard to refuse.

“What _are_ you up to?” he asked, glancing back over his shoulder as he took a step into the bedroom, and another when the pressure on his back didn’t relent.

“I wanted to make you breakfast,” Gladio admitted, and there was a trace of awkwardness to the confession. Awkwardness that disappeared rapidly from Gladio’s voice as he asked, “Are those mine?”

Ignis turned slightly, peering over his own shoulder and taking in how Gladio’s attention was drawn by the loose fitting boxers, which were, on him, rather looser fitting still. “I put on the first thing I found,” he said. “I thought my kitchen was on fire,” he pointed out.

Gladio let himself look a little while longer before Ignis felt the eyes being drawn up over his stomach and chest, and then settling on his face. “Keep them on, and go back to bed,” he said, his voice pitched lower. “I won’t be long.”

Gladio stepped away and closed the bedroom door after himself, leaving Ignis blinking at the wood. Whatever nonsensical notion Gladio had taken into his head, he clearly wasn’t inclined to let it go any time soon. Ignis resigned himself to enduring some sweetly intentioned folly this morning and went to use the bathroom while he waited.

The door to the room opened ten minutes later, and Gladio entered carrying a tray to find Ignis sat up in the bed, with his glasses on, going through his phone. Ignis said nothing as he typed into his messaging app with a finger, only looking up when a tray was settled across his lap. “Did you wake Noct up?” he asked, “Or am I to believe his highness is replying to me at this hour of his own accord?”

Gladio grinned at him, and carefully plucked the phone from Ignis’s unresisting fingers. “I told him that if he made you go and get him out of bed today, I’d make him run laps of the Citadel at six every morning for a month.”

“So he chose the lesser of two evils,” Ignis surmised, looking down at the tray. There was a single flower in a small cup, built of a long, thin stem, and with red and yellow petals that leapt upwards from the flowerhead like churning flames. “What’s this?” he asked, brushing the petals delicately.

“Gloriosa Superba,” Gladio answered, his voice a little quiet, as if that fact was somehow embarrassing. “A fire lily,” he supplied, even more quietly.

Ignis felt the warmth spreading through his chest and he smiled down at the flower. “No one’s ever bought me flowers before,” he said, softly. “They’re poisonous, aren’t they?” he asked, giving Gladio a curiously sharp look.

“I wasn’t expecting you to eat it,” he replied, a touch defensively. “I just,” he trailed off, and shrugged, “wanted to make you breakfast, for a change.”

Ignis looked down at his breakfast and felt that cosy warmth spreading through his limbs. Gladio’s second attempt at toast wasn’t burned, and the coffee smelled delightful, if marginally stronger than usual. Gladio had also, thoughtfully, placed a pat of butter and a pot of jam on the tray. It was simple, and yet all the sweeter for it; a small thought borne of affection and consideration. “Thank you,” he said.

“Don’t mention it,” Gladio replied, leaning over to press his lips to Ignis’s temple.


End file.
